It's not very often I come across this style of book. The two stories running alongside each other and occasionally coming together makes it so fascinating. And because of the smashing imagery created it reminds me of a film, and you could just imagine this book turned into an emotional, heartbreaking film.

The more you go into the book, the more you wonder about how they got there - even though you're finding out more about it. Each little time a part ended, it was like a little cliffhanger and I just kept thinking "why stop now, why not tell all the story" but of course knowing all the story might not have given the same effect.

Learning about their stories made fear rise from within me, because it felt like I was them - it felt like everything that was happening I could feel. An understanding was able to develop in my brain when they went into the physics and philosophy of certain points, even though perhaps I would have been baffled in the past. All of this is because I felt like them, even though I was reading the book as an onlooker and could not be both people, I was.

Every time they submerged into their own stories, all thoughts of them being stuck upside down in a car, at night, badly injured left my mind. Just like they were telling the stories to forget their situation themselves. The whole book, even though it includes the past of the city and the settlement was set within that one car - yet that car was made to feel so far away.

And as the end grew nearer, I began to worry even more. I did not like the stories that they were telling, there was a difference in them from then to now - but they could not see it. And then the reality all comes out, and I found myself so angry at Tristan (the male in the book) for Grace. But they slowly came to an agreement and the shouting and attacks stopped.

Then such a cliffhanger, did they die trying to break free from the car, or did they survive and get found? I do not know, I have no idea. At this point I wept a little, because I didn't know - I didn't want them to die. I wanted them to live happily, I wanted Grace to be with what she called her angel. And even now there are a million solutions and possibilities going around in my head.

Ow gosh, Bernard Beckett, why did you have to leave it like this, why oh why? If only I knew how the author personally imagined it to end, I could feel that the story is over. Or maybe it isn't over? And August was just the beginning.

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